


Your Song

by Amberdreams



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Comment Fic, M/M, Photographer Jared, Rock Star Jensen, Romance, Schmoop, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt "Jared is dating a famous musician, but their relationship is a secret until Jensen decides to dedicate a special song to his boyfriend on his birthday during a massive concert."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Song

For this  [prompt](http://lavishsqualor.livejournal.com/73222.html?thread=980742#t980742)

Jared sighs. A deep, heavy sigh that is wasted on everyone, even Jared himself as it’s completely swallowed by the bass-line that’s throbbing through the floor of the main stage at the Mega Rock Festival.

Sometimes dating a world famous rock star really, really sucks. Especially when the fact that you’re dating Angels and Demon’s ridiculously attractive lead singer, the famous Jensen Ackles, is supposed to be a deep dark secret.

Jared and Jensen have been together for the last eight months, somehow managing to keep their blossoming relationship so quiet that only the other band members and a handful of the crew are aware that Jensen and the young photographer are an item. Jeff, the band manager, and their fiercely protective publicist, Danni, had been insistent that there was no way either the public or the world of heavy metal were ready for an openly gay front man, and as the tour to launch A&D's all important second album was just starting when they’d fallen head over heels for each other, Jensen had reluctantly agreed to keep both his sexuality and Jared quiet.

So yeah, sometimes being Jensen’s secret boyfriend sucks. Especially today. It’s Jared’s birthday, and although he loves watching Jensen perform, just this once, he’d have loved it a hundred times more if he’d had Jensen all to himself tonight. Preferably naked with those bowed legs spread so Jared can trace the constellations of freckles down from nipple to navel, snug between that inviting V of pale, firm flesh.

From his privileged position in the wings of the massive stage, Jared absently focusses his lens on Sheppard as the crazy Brit starts on the three minute drum solo in the middle of Angels and Demon’s biggest hit, _Take You to Hell and Back_. Jared takes several photos on auto-pilot, catching the sparkling beads of sweat caught by the spotlights before they disappear into the darkness. As Shep beats holy hell out of the drum kit – Cozy Powell eat your heart out - Jared’s mind happily wanders in more x rated territory, mapping Jensen’s body inch by inch.

Lost in his fantasy, Jared’s taken by surprise when _Take You to Hell_ crashes to a close and the stage is lunged into deep blackness that seems to last an age, even though it must only be a few seconds. The tidal surge of the crowd quietens and Jared shares their curiosity when a single white spot snaps onto Jensen’s empty mike. He doesn’t remember this from rehearsals. He squints, trying to make his eyes adjust, but the contrast is too much. All he can see is the shaft of light, the circle on the bare boards of the stage and the sharpness of the mike stand shadow slashing through it. The audience settles to a murmur, punctuated by the odd whistle and shout that receive short shrift from the majority as the anticipation builds.

Jared takes a short breath in that’s shared by the ten thousand other spectators when the unmistakable wail of Jensen’s guitar cuts through the near silence, setting the hairs rising on the back of Jared’s neck. He doesn’t breathe out again until Jensen steps forward into the light.

Jensen’s head is bent over his guitar as those competent strong fingers move across the strings, up and down the fret, caressing, stroking, teasing the notes out of his instrument. Jared’s so lost in the movement of those hands he knows so well, and the deep shadows cast on Jensen’s beautifully sculpted face, that the sound of the vocal is like a clarion call, waking Jared from a trance.  
Jensen’s soaring tenor, always a surprise after listening to his whiskey-deep speaking voice, thrills Jared to his core. He loves it when A&D slip in an acoustic song, and this new composition is already sounding like it’s going to be a classic. It’s not until Jensen’s almost done with the first verse and arriving at the bridge that Jared finally tunes into the lyrics.

Through his camera lens, which has been glued to his face without him realising it, Jared sees Jensen isn’t looking at the audience. Jensen isn’t even facing the crowd any more. He’s turned towards the wings where Jared is standing, his knees locked against a growing trembling, because Jensen’s looking through the dark that surrounds him, straight at Jared, and he’s started to move. The spotlight stays with Jensen, and he doesn’t stop singing until he’s standing almost toe to toe with Jared.

  
_You make me hard_  
_You make me helpless_  
_You take my breath away_  
_My soul’s scarred_  
_My passion nameless_  
_I love you more than I can say_

_You said baby, you’re playing with fire_  
_I said maybe, you’re singing to the choir_

_You fill me up_  
_You kill me dead_  
_You steal my breath away_  
_My body’s scared_  
_My passion shameless_  
_I love you more than I can say_

_You say, baby, don’t leave this way_  
_I say, baby, but I just can’t stay_

_I love you more than I can say_

Jensen falls silent, waiting.

Jared’s hands have dropped to his sides, his precious camera swinging unheeded from its strap and he can’t hear anything over the volume-at-eleven beating of his own heart. Jensen’s right in Jared’s space, eyes flashing green as cabochon emeralds, mouth quirked in what Jared recognises as barely suppressed anxiety, and Jared is suddenly free to move. He reaches out and Jensen’s in his arms, all hot sweaty muscle, smelling of leather and whiskey rye. The guitar is gone, and someone takes Jared’s camera but he doesn’t register anything except Jensen’s hand on the back of his head, pulling him close, and the moist warmth of Jensen ’s breath on his neck.

“Happy Birthday, Jay.”

The Mega Rock festival crowd implodes.

 


End file.
